Dear Special K,
Who the hell are you to say what is a 'real woman' and what is not?
I'm as shapely as a stick insect, and the last time I checked, my vagina was not molded from rubber.
I am not the Pinocchio of my gender just because I'm a single digit dress size, you cunts.
Love,
Munky
P.S. Yep, just checked again. I am still a fucking 'real woman'.
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Reinventing the lost fucking art of letter writing.
Blog Archive
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2005
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February
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- Dear mountains,
- Dear consumers of fast food,
- Dear hot caffeinated beverages,
- Dear road grit,
- Dear William Faulkner,
- Dear Camden,
- Dear Sainsbury's,
- Dear cancer,
- Dear Mr Munky,
- Dear my former roommate,
- Dear snow,
- Dear Special K,
- Dear Mr Munky's shit trousers,
- Dear Mr. Pete Doherty,
- Dear boys who hit on me,
- Dear Brett Anderson of Suede/The Tears/heroin fame,
- Dear the London 2012 Olympic bid committee,
- Dear Cosmo,
- Dear leather,
- Dear awful bloke in Café,
- Dear today,
- Dear Camden Council,
- Dear Mr Munky,
- Dear Kentish Town,
- Dear Amy Winehouse,
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February
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Friends
- Bwil loves nasty hookers. (Brian)
- G loves boobies. (Gary)
- Hannah loves hot man-on-man action. (Hannah)
- Jeff loves coffay. (Jeff)
- Jess loves beers. (Jess)
- Ryan loves Jess. (Ryan)
- Shad loves nothing. (Shad)
- Shelly loves me 'cause she's my sister. (Shelly)
- Steph has an unnatural love of trees and gets naked on the internet because she has low self-esteem (Steph)